


Bust Your Windows

by FemslashFetale



Series: Femslash February 2019 [1]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Pre-Relationship, stephen is a bitch, vandallism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 15:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17665601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FemslashFetale/pseuds/FemslashFetale
Summary: Miranda reached inside, pulling out a crowbar. She slammed the trunk closed, storming ahead with it clenched in both hands.Andy’s eyes widened. For the first time she looked at where they were. There was a large cottage about twenty feet in front of them. Sitting in the driveway was a sleek red convertible. A sleek red convertible that Miranda was approaching.





	Bust Your Windows

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first DWP but I hope it does the pairing justice. This story was inspired by a song of the same name and it's always made me think of Miranda. I hope you guys enjoy!

Andy did her best not to limp as she made her way to the front door of Miranda’s townhouse with her boss’ dry cleaning in one hand and the Book in the other. Her feet were killing her. After a full day of running around New York City like a chicken with its head cut off, Andy was paying the price for wearing her most uncomfortable heels. 

 

Or rather, she was paying the price for Miranda’s horrible mood. The editor-in-chief had been ruthless that day. It wasn’t so bad in the morning. Sure, Miranda had walked into the door bitching and complaining, but that was just Miranda being Miranda. No, she wasn’t in full Dragon mode until just after lunch. Miranda had left Elias-Clake early in the afternoon in a somewhat decent mood, then returned two hours later with murder in her eyes. 

 

Suddenly no one could do anything right. Not even Nigel, who was typically efficient enough to avoid  _ direct _ scorn, was able to escape Miranda’s wrath. Even though she could find nothing wrong with his work that day, she had still looked at him with eyes cold as ice and lips permanently pursed. Andy had watched Miranda stare at the spread for nearly five minutes, searching for something, anything that was worth tearing into. But, luckily, today Nigel and his team managed to put together a rare flawless piece of work, so Miranda simply handed back the photo and shooed him away as though he were a fly. Not even a “That’s all”. Just a frustrated flick of her wrist, as if the lack of anything to be angry at made her even angrier. 

 

Andy sighed as she turned the key in the door and stepped inside of the townhouse. Just a trip to the closet and the small table where she set the Book every night, then she could go home and pray that Miranda would be in a better mood the next day. 

 

“Andréa.”

 

Andy suppressed a sigh. She quickly hung the dry cleaning, carrying the Book with her as she headed towards the small study Miranda usually occupied this time of night. She supposed she could survive another tongue lashing. 

 

Andy blushed. Perhaps she shouldn’t call it that. 

 

The study was dark when Andy got to it, the only light coming from the dim hallway she had entered from. She had to squint to see Miranda sitting in her chair. “Miranda?”

 

The editor sat up straighter in her chair, but only slightly. 

 

“Uh,” Andy shuffled forward slightly, careful not to bump into anything she couldn’t see. She held out the Book. “Here you go.”

 

Miranda seemed to stare at the Book for a few moments too long before slowly reaching for it and taking it from Andy’s hand. She brought it to her lap and instead of immediately opening it and poring over its pages, she simply held it in her lap. She didn’t even look down at it. Miranda continued to stare straight ahead, although whether or not she was looking at Andy was hard to tell in the darkness. 

 

Andy tried to phrase her request in a way that wasn’t a question (because even after nearly a year she was mindful of the original list of rules Emily had given her), but failed. Finally, after nearly a minute of silence, she inhaled deeply. If she upset Miranda, well, it would give the editor one more chance to take her bad mood out on Andy before the day was over. 

 

“Miranda,” she said, “Can I turn on the light?”

 

Miranda tilted her head slowly before giving a slight nod. 

 

Andy leaned forward, pulling the string on the lamp standing next to Miranda’s chair. She blinked, eyes adjusting to the light. When she turned her gaze back to Miranda she froze. Miranda simply continued to stare forward, looking slightly to the left of Andy. Those eyes were what gave Andy pause. They took Andy back to Paris, a time where her life seemed to be in a free fall. She remembered coming into Miranda’s hotel room and being stricken by the look in her eyes. Those beautiful eyes were tortured  by a swirl of emotions. Sadness, anger, disappointment and a hint of  _ I knew it _ . In that moment Andy vowed to never be the cause of that look. 

 

The next day she nearly broke that vow. 

 

_ Standing at the fountain, Andy considered leaving it all behind. Leaving Miranda behind. Determined to retain her ethics and sense of self, Andy was prepared to walk away.  _

 

_ Then her phone rang.  _

 

_ Looking down at the display Andy couldn’t help but smile. She cocked her arm back, ready to throw her phone, her career, her life into the water. Before she could release her hold, she turned her head slightly and made eye contact with Miranda. Her boss stood on the steps, surrounded by a swarm of paparazzi, watching.  _

 

_ Watching with eyes filled with sadness, anger, disappointment and a hint of  _ I knew it _.  _

 

Andy hadn’t left Miranda then and she found herself unable to leave now. 

 

She straightened, wringing her hands in front of her. She wanted to ask what she could do, but mindful of Miranda’s response last time she asked that question, she simply stood and waited for direction. She didn’t need to wait long. 

 

“Andréa,” Miranda said in a low murmur. “Can you drive?”

 

Andy blinked. “Uh, I haven’t had to since I moved here, but, yeah, I can drive.”

 

Miranda nodded, running her forefinger across her bottom lip. “Your license is valid?”

 

“Yes, Miranda.”

 

Miranda nodded again. “I can’t remember the last time I drove myself anywhere. It was most certainly before I moved to New York.” She sighed. “And that was so long ago…”

 

Andy shifted slightly, “Uh, well, I’m sure you could do it.” She forced a smile. “It’s like riding a bike, you never forget.”

 

Miranda let out a sound that seemed to be a cross between a snort, chuckle and scoff. “It’s been even longer since I’ve ridden a bike.” She rose from her chair slowly but elegantly. “Alright, let’s go.”

 

Andy furrowed her brow. She couldn’t stop the question before it escaped her mouth. “Go where?”

 

Miranda walked past Andy, moving down the hall and towards the door. “You are driving me somewhere.”

 

“Uh,” Andy trotted after her boss, wincing slightly as she remembered the pain in her feet. “Roy is outside waiting for me. I can just have him drive you and I can take the subway back.”

 

Miranda stared at Andy for a long moment. She opened her closet, pushing aside the dry cleaning and pulling out the large white purse she had carried that day. She reached in for a phone, pressing two buttons before bringing it to her ear. “Roy,” she said, looking straight at Andy. “You are excused for the rest of the evening. I’ll see you in the morning at the usual time.” She ended the call, reaching back into the closet for her coat. “Come along, Andréa. I don’t have all night.”

 

Andy bit back a sigh. “Yes, Miranda.”

 

Miranda pulled out her coat, a large, tan fur one that draped to her ankles. Andy rushed forward, taking Miranda’s purse and helping her pull the coat on over the cream shift she was wearing. Miranda took her purse back once she was settled. She turned away from the front door, leading Andy deeper into the house. Miranda led them to a door next to the kitchen. By the door hung a few hooks, each with a set of keys on them. Miranda reached out blindly, taking the first pair her hand touched. She shoved the keys into Andy’s hand, opening the door into the garage attached to her townhouse.

 

Andy barely kept from shivering as they walked into the dark, cold garage. She pressed a button on the key fob, jumping slightly as the sedan closest to the door roared to life. Andy couldn’t see much of it, even with the headlights casting light off of the walls, but she could tell that it was black, powerful and expensive. She could hardly believe that she would be driving it.

 

“Well,” Miranda said, brushing past Andy and opening the passenger door. “Get in.” She slid inside, slamming the door.

 

Andy took a deep breath, trotting around the back of the car and getting behind the wheel. She buckled her seatbelt, nervously adjusting it. She looked over at her boss. Miranda was staring out the window, slumped over slightly in her seat. “Uh, Miranda….your seatbelt?”

 

Miranda turned her head slightly, allowing Andy to see only half of the nasty glare she was sending her way.

 

Andy cleared her throat. “Right.” She pressed the button on the garage door opener, backing out once the way was clear. As the door closed again, she simply sat in the street, hands clenched around the steering wheel. She felt as if she was one sentence away from being fired, but… “Miranda, where-?”

 

“Turn left.”

 

The rest of the drive passed that way, tense silence broken only with the occasional direction from Miranda as Andy did her best to navigate the icy roads. The only thing that changed was that the closer they got to their mystery destination, the quieter Miranda became. Well, maybe quiet wasn’t the right word. Miranda was always quiet, but that quietnes was usually tempered with a restlessness that spoke for her. The impatient twiddling of a pen, the sound of a heavy sigh, the shifting of her shoulders. Miranda was a never ending monologue. But right now there was no monologue. Only silence.

 

Only stillness.

 

The first signs of life came when the road they were on turned to dirt, the crunch and rumble of the tires causing Miranda to sit up in her seat. Once again Andy wondered where they were going. 

 

“Stop.”

 

Andy nearly slammed on the brake, jerking forward slightly. Miranda barely noticed, opening the door before the car completely stopped, stumbling slightly over her brown stilettos. She went around to the back of the car.

 

Miranda slammed her hand on the rear windshield. “Open the damn trunk!”

 

Andy fumbled with the button to open the trunk, heart pounding. As silent as Miranda had been before, now she was anything but. Her body crackled with tension, every muscle seeming to twitch in her sudden impatience. She hit her hand repeatedly on the rear windshield again, pounding on it mercilessly. She only stopped once the trunk popped open. Miranda reached inside, pulling out a crowbar. She slammed the trunk closed, storming ahead with it clenched in both hands. 

 

Andy’s eyes widened. For the first time she looked at where they were. There was a large cottage about twenty feet in front of them. Sitting in the driveway was a sleek red convertible. A sleek red convertible that Miranda was approaching. 

 

Andy unlatched her seatbelt, nearly falling out of the car. “Wait, Miranda!” She chased after her boss. “What are you doing,” she hissed.

 

Miranda froze in front of the car, breathing heavily. 

 

“Miranda this is crazy!” Andy looked around. “Someone could catch us.”

 

Miranda chuckled. “No one will. He’s out of town. On vacation with his  _ slut.” _

 

The first swing of the crowbar against the windshield cracked through the air. 

 

“They took a plane to  _ Switzerland _ this afternoon.”  _ Crack! _ “Because he’s  _ always _ wanted to go to fucking Switzerland.”  _ Crack!  _ “But of course I was always too busy.”  _ Crack! _ “Too busy for trips.”  _ Crack!  _ “Too busy for dinner.”  _ Crack!  _ “Too busy for sex.”  _ Crack!  _ “Too busy for  _ him. _ ”  **_Crack!_ **

 

In a flash Andy understood. She wasn’t sure how she could have missed it. That afternoon Miranda had a meeting on her schedule simply labeled ‘Lawyer’. 

 

Divorce lawyer.

 

_ Stephen. _

 

“I wasn’t the only one who worked late. Or with an assistant who wanted to fuck me.”

 

Andy gasped. She could feel herself blushing. She thought she was being careful with her glances, with the way she would make sure her hand touched Miranda’s whenever passing something. She thought that Miranda, always so absorbed with herself and with Runway, would never notice. But of course she did. It was Miranda’s job to notice things. From a poor font selection to her second assistant’s crush. 

 

“Miranda, I-.”

 

“But I stayed  _ faithful. _ ” Miranda swung the crowbar with a vengeance, pieces of the side mirror flying through the air. “And you had the nerve to-! You-!” The crowbar fell with a dull clang at her feet. She leaned against the car, panting. 

 

Tense moments passed in silence. 

 

_ Crack! _

 

Miranda turned her head, as flabbergasted as she’d ever looked. 

 

Andy froze, standing up straight with another rock in her hand. “I’m sorry, I just-.”

 

Miranda laughed. 

 

It was a deep, full bellied laugh that shook Miranda’s entire frame. She threw her head back and wrapped her arms around her own waist. Tears streamed down her face, though Andy highly doubted they were from the laughter alone. Andy couldn’t help but join in, especially when a snort escaped Miranda. They stood there, laughing as it began to snow around them. 

 

“C’mon,” Andy said once they started to calm down. “I’ll drive you home.”

 

“Wait,” Miranda said. She picked the crowbar back up, walking around to the hood. She carved her initials, a large  _ MP  _ standing out against the red paint. She held out the crowbar to Andy. “Your turn, Andréa.”

 

Andy held her hands up. “Oh, no, I can’t.”

 

“You’re already an accomplice.” Miranda cocked an eyebrow. “Do it or you’re fired.”

 

Andy slowly took the bar from Miranda. The editor was probably joking, but you never could tell when it came to her and firing. Andy took her turn, wincing at the screech of metal on metal. 

 

They took a step back, admiring their work. The windshield was splintered into web like cracks. One of the side mirrors held on by a single wire, swinging back and forth lazily. There were a number of dents in the door facing them and the paint was covered in scratches, with their proud  _ ASMP  _ in the middle of the hood. 

 

Miranda let out a disbelieving chuckle. “I didn’t know that I had that much strength.” She took a deep breath. “Let’s go home.”

 

Back in the car, Andy buckled her seatbelt, smiling softly when Miranda did the same. That smile fell when Miranda caught her staring. “Miranda,” she said, her voice a near whisper in the small space. “About...well…” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, turning to stare straight ahead through the windshield. “I know it’s inappropriate and if I ever made you uncomfortable or anything then I’m sorry.”

 

There was a moment of silence, then Miranda laid her hand on top of Andy’s. Andy felt her heart beat double time as her breath stuttered in her chest, She looked over to Miranda, but the editor was gazing resolutely out the window.

 

“I did not say it was inappropriate. Or that it was even unwelcome,” she said, each word spoken slowly and deliberately. “But it is not something that I wish to discuss tonight of all nights.”

 

“But,” Andy licked her lips, breathless at the feeling of hope blooming in her chest. “You do want to discuss it?”

 

Miranda turned her head just a bit, Andy catching the edge of a blush. “Very much so.”

 

Andy felt the strain on her cheeks as she smiled widely. “Okay.” She placed the car in reverse, turning away from the wreck in front of them and heading back into the city, a road of possibilities stretched before them.


End file.
